


he can't dance.

by rachelbee



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Septober Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 21:52:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelbee/pseuds/rachelbee
Summary: TFP Septober prompt fill: "Wyatt, you look like hell." When Wyatt returns from a mission sporting a black eye that he didn't receive on said mission, Rufus has some questions, and Lucy has some answers.





	he can't dance.

**Author's Note:**

> This one bounces back and forth a bit, just so you know.

****“Wyatt, you look like _hell_.”

Wyatt blinked up at Rufus, squinting slightly around the pain in his left eye as Rufus stared at him. “Thanks, Rufus,” he bit out sarcastically, slinging his holster on over his button-down shirt. “I feel like it.” 

“What happened? Is _this_ why you insisted on wearing an eyepatch?” Rufus asked, gesturing to the black eye Wyatt was currently sporting. The bruising had begun to purple over the weekend, thankfully; it had looked much worse when it had first happened. Wyatt groaned, fastening his holster and reaching for his jacket instead. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled, almost childishly, as he swung his jacket over his shoulder and pushed his way into the main hallway of the wardrobe dock. 

Lucy had already changed back into her skirt and blouse from earlier, her heels clicking along as she walked up and down the racks of clothes, putting the period clothing back where it belonged. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun, and Wyatt smirked as he remembered the nights they’d spent in the conference room above their heads, all of the tables and chairs pushed up against the walls as he spun her around, her tight bun coming loose with every turn. 

“So, Lucy, what happened to Wyatt?” Rufus asked, and Wyatt sighed, rolling his eyes. Lucy turned around, her eyebrows raised in question, but her expression relaxed when she noticed the black eye and Rufus’ questioning gaze. She shrugged, sliding her dress back into the rows of clothing. 

“Wyatt can’t dance,” she replied simply, and Wyatt scoffed at that while Rufus gasped, turning to Wyatt for confirmation. 

“That’s not what happened,” Wyatt retaliated and Lucy chuckled, nodding her head as he took a step towards her, smirking down at her. 

“That is _exactly_ what happened,” she argued, punctuating her point with a sharp jab of her finger to his chest. He shook his head, smiling softly as she laughed at the memory. Rufus’ eyes were wide as he grinned back and forth between the both of them. 

“Okay, why were you two dancing? Should I go get popcorn?” he asked, quickly taking a seat on the bench beside the 1600’s clothing rack. Lucy shrugged as Wyatt heaved a sigh and sat down on the other bench, turning to Rufus. 

“A few weeks ago, Lucy and I were talking…”

 

* * *

_Three weeks earlier…_

Lucy sat on the bench outside of the changing rooms in the wardrobe dock, absentmindedly twisting the chain of her locket around her fingers, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth as she frowned down at the photo. Wyatt paused in front of her, fixing the cuffs of his shirt. 

“You miss her?” he asked, nodding at the locket. Lucy glanced up, startled to see him, and he wished he could shove his foot in his mouth when he saw her quickly brush a stray tear away. _Smooth move, Logan; of course she misses her sister._ “Need help getting over a hump?” he asked gently. He ran his hand through his hair as she sniffled, nodding. 

“Stanford does this annual dance marathon to raise money for cancer research,” Lucy explained, flipping her locket closed as Wyatt sat down next to her on the bench. “Amy and I would participate every year, and she even helped organize it while she went there, to help raise money for our mom.” Wyatt frowned at that and Lucy quickly added, “my mother used to have lung cancer. It was terminal.” Wyatt nodded, going over everything he’d just learned, tilting his head in thought. 

“What’s a dance marathon?” Lucy seemed surprised that _that_ was the question he chose to ask, but grateful all the same to not have to continue talking about her now-healthy-and-also-basically-queen-of-Rittenhouse mother and her lost-in-time sister. 

“It’s where you dance for twenty-four hours straight. Someone has to be up and moving at all times for twenty-four hours, and there are only a few ten-minute breaks scattered throughout the period,” she explained, and he smirked, feeling like he was on the receiving end of a pitch of some sort. He cocked an eyebrow in interest and leaned his chin into his hand. 

“Tell me more,” he murmured, and she smiled softly at him as she sat back against the rack of clothing, twisting on the bench to get comfortable as she sighed, thinking of the marathon. 

“All of the proceeds go to cancer research, and the last couple left standing at the end of the twenty-four hours gets this gigantic trophy.” Lucy’s eyes lit up and her smile grew. Wyatt chuckled, sitting up straight. “Amy and I would enter every year, and we would always get so close, but we never won.”  

“You really want that trophy, huh?” he asked, slightly teasing. She blushed but nodded. 

“I want to help raise money for cancer research,” Lucy insisted, then shrugged her shoulders gently. “But, a trophy would be nice.” Wyatt nodded, watching as she went back to fiddling with the chain of her locket and he quickly made a decision. 

“Alright,” he began, slapping his hands on his knees, startling Lucy as he stood up in front of her, holding his hand out. She frowned up at him, giggling. “I’ll be your dance partner,” he offered, shaking his hand in the air. Her eyes widened as she sat up straight, her fists curled tight as she tried to ward off the impending excitement. He chuckled; she looked about ready to burst. 

“Really?” she squeaked, taking his hand. He pulled her up, nodding as she beamed up at him, her face shining like the sun. She was almost hard to look at, but her excitement seemed to be contagious since his own mouth was subconsciously pulling up into a soft smile as he looked down at her. She bounced on the balls of her feet for a few seconds before throwing her arms around his neck. He chuckled, wrapping his around her waist before she suddenly pulled away. “Wait, are you sure? It’s _twenty-four hours_ , Wyatt.” He rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Luce,” he chuckled, pulling her with him as they headed out of the wardrobe dock. “I have military training. I’ve been up for way longer than twenty-four hours straight,” he assured her, shrugging. “It’ll be a piece of cake.” Lucy looked skeptical but nodded, clearly grateful, and that smile came back. He pushed the door to the parking lot open, holding It for her as she followed him outside. “You’re getting that trophy,” he vowed, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand, still wrapped tightly in his. She laughed at him, her brown eyes shimmering in the glow of the midday sun. 

“Alright,” she acquiesced, giggling as she pulled her hand out of his and reached for her car keys. “Well, in that case, can you dance?” Wyatt shrugged halfheartedly and she stopped at her car, parked right next to his truck. 

Lucy glanced him over, her mouth twisted up as she scrutinized him. Wyatt shifted back and forth uncomfortably as she popped her hip, tapping her index finger against her chin. 

“Okay, tomorrow night, after we take care of research, meet me in that conference room upstairs that’s never being used.” Wyatt froze as Lucy tossed her bag into her passenger seat and crossed to the other side of her car to climb into the driver’s seat. 

“Um, why?” he called out as she got in. She rolled the passenger window down and he leaned down to her eye-level as she smirked up at him. 

“I’m going to teach you how to dance,” she replied simply. Then, she rolled her window back up, reversed out of the spot, and sped off, leaving Wyatt standing by his truck, wondering what he’d just gotten himself into. 

* * *

Wyatt had never been one for research, but the next evening, he tried to absorb as much information as he could from the old, dusty books that Lucy had tossed onto their table weeks ago. He pored over them, drinking in as many facts as he could; anything to delay the dancing that would soon take place. 

Around the fourth hour of research, Lucy caught on to him. 

“Dancing isn’t _that_ bad,” she chastised, snatching the book he was “reading” away from him. “And, you’re worse than Amy when she was little. At least she kept her books right-side up,” she teased, waving the book she’d just taken in front of him. He blushed, sinking deeper into the cushions of the armchair he normally claimed when they came in to do research. 

Lucy sighed, setting the book down on the table. She twisted her mouth up as she regarded Wyatt, still slumped down in the cushions. 

“You offered,” she reminded him gently, and he sat up straight at that. “If you don’t want to, though, I understand.” Wyatt shook his head, immediately standing from the chair. 

“No way, Luce, I promised,” he murmured, grabbing her hand firmly in his. Lucy giggled as he all but dragged her out of their regular office and up the stairs to the aforementioned abandoned conference room, dodging questioning glances from Rufus and Jiya.

_“Oh,_ that’s _where you guys went?”_

* * *

Wyatt turned, frowning at Rufus. “Yeah, why? Where did you think we went?” he asked. Rufus muttered something under his breath, shuffling his feet on the floor. 

“Oh, _Rufus_!” Lucy exclaimed, covering her face with her hands. Wyatt frowned up at her as she peeked at him through her fingers, her cheeks conveying the deep red blush she was trying in vain to hide. “We weren’t doing _that_.” 

Wyatt sat up straight as he realized what Rufus had assumed. “Dude,” he chastised, shaking his head at his friend. Rufus spluttered, ducking his head to avoid their gazes. 

“Just continue,” he murmured. Lucy huffed a sigh and collapsed onto the bench beside Wyatt, leaning into his arm. He moved to wrap his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. 

“Where was I?” he asked her, teasing. She rolled her eyes with a soft smirk. 

“Your first dance lesson,” she reminded him with an affectionate shake of her head. 

“Right,” he replied, turning back to Rufus. “So, we go to the abandoned conference room to practice dancing, and _nothing more_.”

* * *

Lucy and Wyatt pushed the table and chairs up against the windows, and Wyatt pulled his button-down shirt off as Lucy absentmindedly tied her hair up into a perfect bun. She smirked at Wyatt as she flounced over to the table and lifted one of her long legs to rest on the table, bending over completely to wrap her hands around her ankle and stretch herself out. Wyatt stood there, frozen in place, his eyes following her movement, finally resting on the curve of her-

“Hey,” she called out, snapping Wyatt out of his thoughts. He visibly shook himself and cleared his throat. “You should probably stretch, too. I know you’re agile in the field, but I don’t trust you on a dance floor just yet.” Wyatt chuckled and swung his leg up onto the table as well, holding back a groan of discomfort as he realized he was clearly not as flexible as Lucy. 

“You really want to win this thing, huh?” he teased her, switching legs as she did, but not bending down all the way to touch his nose to his knee like Lucy was now doing. She pointed her toes away from her, and he could see her leg muscles pulled taut as she stretched. 

He gulped. 

“I told you,” she replied easily, coming up out of her stretch and swiftly morphing into another, grabbing her ankle from behind her and pulling her leg up in an arc at her back. “That trophy is gorgeous.” 

Thankfully, Lucy finished stretching quickly, and Wyatt eased out of his fake stretching to join her in the middle of the empty space they’d created in the conference room. Lucy placed her hands on her hips as she circled Wyatt. 

“Have you ever danced before?” she asked, and he shifted, uncomfortable under her thorough scrutinization. 

“I took Jess dancing a few times when we first got engaged,” he admitted, and Lucy paused, straightening up. “We took ballroom dancing lessons for the wedding, but I got drafted not long after, so we didn’t really get to go dancing when we were married.” Lucy nodded silently, padding her way over to her cell phone sitting on the table. 

“Let’s see what you remember,” she murmured, smiling brightly at him, and he smirked in return. She clicked something on her phone and a slow song started blaring tinnily through the built-in speakers. “Do you know how to waltz?”

Wyatt responded by gently gripping her waist and pulling her towards him, his other hand gracefully holding hers as she rested the palm of her hand against his shoulder. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, and she rolled her eyes as he swiftly led her across the room to the tune of the song. Lucy moved with such grace that Wyatt had to continuously remind himself to stay focused; _he_ was supposed to be leading, after all. She spun with a practiced ease when he twirled her, and with her hair pulled up neatly as it was and the long skirt she’d worn to work that day fanning out around her, she reminded him of a ballerina you might see in a music box. 

Wyatt was in awe of Lucy as they danced, and had to swallow his groan of dismay when the song ended, only static playing through Lucy’s phone speakers. They stood still in the middle of the room, arms still around each other, just staring into each other’s eyes. 

The air in the room had grown warmer, somehow, or maybe Wyatt wasn’t in as good of shape as he’d boasted about. Had he actually broken a sweat just from dancing? He didn’t feel physically strained in any way, yet he could feel his heart beating a mile a minute against his chest, his palms beginning to sweat ever so slightly. 

Wyatt was the first to pull away, and Lucy jumped back as well, startled. 

“Good job,” she blurted out, rushing over to grab her phone and bag from off the table. “I think that’s enough for tonight.” Wyatt nodded, clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute,” he muttered, waving her off as she slipped through the door. The minute she was gone, he took several deep breaths in an effort to calm his heart rate. None of his muscles felt overused, and even his legs didn’t ache from trying to stretch them out earlier. So, what was the matter with him?

He peeked through the glass windows of the conference room down to the dock where the Lifeboat sat, watching Lucy shuffle along the metal floorboards. Wyatt placed a hand over his heart as he felt it beginning to beat quickly again. 

Oh. 

* * *

“What song was it?” Rufus asked around a mouthful of popcorn. Wyatt scowled at him as he ate. 

“I can’t believe you actually went and got popcorn,” Lucy giggled, leaning further into Wyatt’s arm as she tried to catch her breath. Rufus grinned at her, shaking his head. 

“I didn’t,” he corrected her, pointing over his shoulder. “Jiya brought it.” His girlfriend plopped down onto the bench next to him and stole a handful of popcorn out of the bowl she’d brought by out of pure coincidence, according to Rufus, as Wyatt sighed. “So, what song was it?”

“I don’t remember,” Wyatt lied, and Lucy cocked an eyebrow at him. “ _Gravity_ by John Mayer,” he admitted. Rufus and Jiya exchanged a glance. “Oh, Jesus, can I just get back to the story?”

“That depends. Does it end with you getting punched in the face by some twelve-year-old ballerina?” Jiya asked, and Rufus rushed to cover his ears. 

“Spoilers, Jiya!” he chastised. Lucy’s head was thrown back in glee, barely able to stay upright as she erupted into fits of giggles. Wyatt chuckled at her, looping his arm around her waist to help her sit up straight. 

“No, the ballerina that hit me wasn't twelve,” Wyatt offered, and both Rufus and Jiya leaned in closer. 

“Intrigue,” Jiya whispered, grabbing another handful of popcorn. “Continue,” she urged, waving a buttery hand in his direction. Wyatt chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Alright, so we did a few more lessons…”

* * *

Wyatt heaved a dramatic sigh as he pushed the door to the conference room open, Lucy trailing in after him. “Why do we have to do the tango? How much of this is going to be real dancing and not just me holding you up while you try not to fall asleep for twenty-four hours straight?” Lucy rolled her eyes as she twisted her hair up into her bun, and Wyatt paused to let her finish before they continued their discussion. 

“Wyatt, that couple that always beats me might still be there,” Lucy reminded him. “They’re _phenomenal_ dancers, and we’re not bad! We could maybe even pass for decent dancers if we practice everything. And, we don’t know what kind of music will be playing, so it’s going to be like Dancing with the Stars for a bit, here, okay?” Wyatt shrugged as he slipped his shoes off and met Lucy in the middle of the room. She glanced down at his socked feet. “You don’t want to put shoes on?” she asked, clicking her heeled dance shoe against the linoleum for emphasis. Wyatt smirked at her as he settled her into his arms.

“You won’t step on my dance feet,” he promised, strengthening his stance as Lucy chuckled and clicked her remote. A cliche tango song blasted out of the speakers that Wyatt had hooked up while Lucy had gotten changed out of her historically accurate corset a couple weeks ago. The dance marathon was a couple of days away, and they’d been practicing all sorts of dances for weeks. They’d successfully avoided the tango, until now, much to Wyatt’s dismay. 

“I don’t get why you don’t like the tango,” Lucy breathed as Wyatt spun her out and then back into him, holding her against his chest. “You’re good at it.” Wyatt rolled his eyes as they began their trek across the floor once more. 

“It just seems so gaudy,” he grumbled as he twirled Lucy and dipped her, his nose just barely brushing the skin of her neck before they snapped back up and continued dancing. “No one actually dances like this unless they’re trying to impress someone.” Lucy giggled as he twirled her one more time. 

“Well, consider me impressed, Mr. Logan,” she insisted and Wyatt paused for a moment. Lucy stopped with him, the music still blaring through the speakers. They stood there for a few measures, and Lucy kept counting in her head as she tried to identify the look in Wyatt’s eyes as he gazed down at her. Finally, Lucy gently eased him back into the dance with a soft smile. “Plus, we’ll need to impress everyone at the dance marathon. You’re going to help me win that gigantic trophy, aren’t you?”

Wyatt chuckled, nodding, and they finished the dance without any more interruptions. 

* * *

“Gotta admit,” Jiya interrupted, and Wyatt rested his head in his hands in frustration as Lucy giggled at him and gently ran her fingers through his hair in an effort to comfort him. “I’m slightly disappointed that Lucy didn’t absolutely destroy your toes with her serious dance shoes.” Wyatt frowned up at her. 

“You’re upset?” he repeated, and she nodded. “Why?”

“Would’ve taught you something about proper footwear!” Jiya exclaimed, slapping his arm. “You can’t dance anything, let along the _tango_ , without proper dance shoes. What the hell is the matter with you?” Lucy nodded emphatically. 

“Yes, thank you!” she cheered. Wyatt rolled his eyes as Rufus chuckled. 

“Go on, buddy, how was the actual dance?” he asked, and Wyatt smiled gratefully. 

“The dance marathon was two nights later…”

* * *

Wyatt straightened his tie for the hundredth time as he waited outside Mason Industries. Thankfully, they’d gotten back from thwarting Emma’s plans yet again just in time to make the dance marathon. The B team had been called in case of emergency, but neither Lucy nor Agent Christopher believed that Emma would make another trip within the next twenty-four hours. 

He was pacing back and forth, trying to calm himself down, when Lucy emerged from the side door in a bright red dancing dress and her heeled dance shoes. Her hair was curled and pinned up on one side, and her lipstick matched her getup perfectly. She smiled at Wyatt as he stared at her. 

“Ready to win?” Lucy grinned, and Wyatt chuckled, nodding and taking her by the hand. 

Registering and getting into the ballroom was easy; finding a spot on the dance floor was the hard part. They maneuvered their way through the crowd and Wyatt helped Lucy pin her number onto her dress so the judges would be able to tell which contestants they were. A few couples were already staggering as the music played from speakers lining the ballroom. Wyatt and Lucy danced casually, Wyatt just swaying Lucy to and fro to the tune of the music. The real dancing would be saved for the live band. Right now, the judges weren’t paying too close attention. 

Wyatt briefly entertained the idea of sneaking a quick nap in while he could, but he wasn’t tired at all. Not with Lucy falling into him as the other couples quickly crowded around them, her bright eyes incomparable to the beaming lights shining down on them. He spun her around in their tight space and she giggled, grinning up at him when he pulled her back towards him. 

Finally, the music tapered off through the speakers, and a loud crackling noise sounded as the live band took the stage and plugged in their guitars. Wyatt and Lucy paused to watch the band get set up, along with everyone else in the room. The frontman chuckled as he grabbed the microphone. 

“Folks, we’ll be starting in just a few shakes, here. Why don’t you all find a nice spot to dance for the first hour before Judd over there inevitably collapses from exhaustion,” he suggested, gesturing to an older gentleman off to the right who was grinning good-naturedly at the jab. “All jokes aside, just a little rundown of the rules for you new faces out there,” he continued, counting off on his fingers. “One of you must be standing and dancing, even if it’s just a sway, the whole time. There will be four ten-minute breaks for you to grab sandwiches or salads, since I know dancers are always ‘watching their figure’,” he paused as a ripple of laughter shot through the crowd, and Wyatt glanced at Lucy as she giggled, shrugging. “Those will be announced by this sound.” 

He raised his hand toward the ceiling and an airhorn sounded, startling everyone in the crowd. Lucy jumped, tightening her arms around Wyatt’s waist as the rest of the dancers cried out. 

“We know it’s startling, that’s why we warn you.” The frontman glanced back at his bandmates and nodded. “Most importantly, have fun. That trophy _is_ incredibly nice, but we’re all here to raise money for cancer, aren’t we?” The crowd clapped at his sentiment as he quickly tuned his guitar. 

“No, we want that trophy!” someone called out in the crowd, and the band laughed before strumming a few chords. 

“Take your places, ladies, gentlemen, and others, because the annual Stanford Dance Marathon has begun!” The band began playing a particularly jazzy song and Wyatt snapped to attention, quickly grabbing Lucy by the waist. She laughed as they danced, twirling around their spot. 

“So, do you recognize anyone?” he asked her over the music. Lucy glanced around, her gaze resting on a couple that seemed to be in a quiet argument. She giggled, nodding over to them. 

“I don’t know their names, but they always end up getting into a fight within the first hour and storming off the dance floor.” Wyatt raised his eyebrows at that and they both turned their bodies toward the couple to watch as the argument progressed. 

Sure enough, by the end of the first hour, the man had abruptly disentangled himself from the woman, shouting something about “ _Victor?”_ and stalking off in a huff, leaving his wife alone on the floor. A nice student kindly informed her that she and her husband were disqualified, and the woman was the next to leave in a huff. 

“Like clockwork,” Lucy muttered under her breath, and Wyatt laughed as he spun her again. 

The next few hours passed quickly, and more couples succumbed to either hunger or exhaustion. By the fourth hour, the amount of people on the dance floor had significantly decreased, giving Lucy and Wyatt more space to show off their moves. 

“Oh, no,” Lucy groaned, resting her head on Wyatt’s shoulder. He frowned, glancing around at the couples surrounding them. “That’s Pierre and his wife Genevieve,” she explained, nodding towards a couple that had been keeping up with them, twirling around the dance floor like they were professionals. “They’re the ones that beat me and Amy every year. They were both raised in France and used to be members of the Paris Opera Ballet.” Lucy rolled her eyes as the couple danced closer toward them, their frames impeccable as they waltzed around Lucy and Wyatt.

“Dearest Lucy,” Genevieve drawled in her French accent, and Wyatt visibly retracted as Genevieve leaned forward, right into Lucy’s face. “Where is your darling beau this evening? Have you two parted ways?” Lucy frowned at her, clearly confused, before she glanced at Wyatt, her eyes wide. 

“Do you mean Noah?” she clarified, turning back to Genevieve. Off of her nod, Lucy cleared her throat, smiling up at Wyatt. “Yes, he was unable to make it this evening, so Wyatt stepped in.” Wyatt smiled back at her before nodding politely to Genevieve and Pierre. 

“Pleasure,” he offered, but Genevieve sneered and the couple quickly turned away to harass another couple on the dance floor. “So, in this timeline, you must have done this with Noah,” he murmured, and Lucy nodded minutely. 

“That makes sense,” she replied softly. “Since Amy didn’t exist, and I probably didn’t go until Noah anyway since my mother wasn’t sick.” Wyatt nodded along, taking the opportunity to spin Lucy out into the middle of the dance floor and twirl her back into his arms, grinning as she giggled at the shock. 

 The first airhorn startled nearly everyone, but Lucy and Wyatt were prepared. He would grab a sandwich and salad and Lucy would run to the restroom while the other women were off eating. They made a break for it, shooting off in their separate directions. There was only a short line for the restroom, but unfortunately, the same could not be said for the food line. 

Wyatt was still waiting when Lucy caught up to him a few minutes later. “Do you think we can dance and eat at the same time?” Lucy asked as her stomach rumbled. Wyatt shrugged helplessly as the line began to inch forward. “I knew I should have eaten something before we left.” 

“I think I have a protein bar somewhere,” Wyatt murmured, feeling around his breast pocket. He pulled out an energy bar and handed it to her. She smiled gratefully and immediately tore the wrapper open and took a large bite. “Whoa, slow down, Luce. Don’t choke.” She rolled her eyes but chewed carefully as the line began to move a little faster. 

They got their sandwich and salad and headed back to the dance floor as Lucy finished off the protein bar. The timer they had on stage to count down their ten-minute break was running out, and Wyatt quickly pocketed the sandwich and handed Lucy her salad.

“I’m not sure if you’re allowed to eat and dance, so be discrete,” he told her as he grabbed her waist and they began swaying back and forth as Lucy snuck bites of her salad while the band started playing again. 

Hours five and six passed without much activity. A few couples were disqualified, but Pierre and Genevieve were still going strong, twirling circles around every couple. Towards the middle of hour seven, Lucy yawned, and Wyatt chuckled, his hand fitting to the back of her neck and laying her head against his shoulder. 

“No, I can make it to the tenth hour,” Lucy whined, trying to stand up straight, but Wyatt gently eased her head back down. 

“You spent the first eighteen hours of the day in 1924,” he reminded her quietly, and she yawned again. “You can rest your eyes for a bit, I’ve got you.” She nodded against his chest and he could tell the minute she fell asleep, her body slumping into his. He tightened his grip on her waist and held her up, swaying the both of them back and forth so as not to get disqualified. 

She slept until hour nine. The airhorn for the second ten-minute break shocked everyone, and in turn, startled poor Lucy awake. Wyatt led her to one of the benches and let her sit down and rest her head on his shoulder while he ate his sandwich from earlier. He offered a bit to her, but she shook her head politely. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, snuggling into his shoulder, and he smiled at her. 

“My pleasure, ma’am,” he murmured. She started to wake up on her own a few minutes later and even ate a couple bites of Wyatt’s sandwich as she sat up straight. By the time the countdown ended, they were both back on the dance floor, energized and ready to go. 

The band returned to the stage and began playing a sultry song, and Lucy grinned as Wyatt rolled his eyes. 

“The tango,” they both said, Wyatt in a tone of annoyance and Lucy with a slight squeal. 

“Come on, you’re _great_ at the tango,” she reminded him as he fixed his posture and held her close. “You said we only do the tango to impress people, right? Well, impress Pierre and Genevieve and make them wish they never questioned our dancing ability.” Wyatt nodded, sweeping Lucy into a sharp dip, making her yelp in surprise. 

She quickly regained her composure and she and Wyatt completely abducted the dance floor, all eyes on them as they tangoed across the ballroom. Lucy smiled as they twirled and swayed, and could see Pierre and Genevieve scowling out of the corner of her eye. 

The song ended and Lucy and Wyatt swayed on the spot they stopped in as the band started up with a waltz. 

Hours ten and eleven came and went. By hour twelve, there were only about twenty couples still in the running for the massive trophy glinting in the light up on stage. They’d made it halfway, Wyatt realized as he glanced at the clock on the wall. 

Hour thirteen, the couple swaying beside them was disqualified after one of the women tumbled out of her girlfriend’s arms, completely asleep. The woman shrugged at Lucy and Wyatt and gently carried her girlfriend off the dance floor. 

Hour fourteen, Lucy yawned again, but when Wyatt tried to get her to rest, she shook her head emphatically. “What if you drop me like Leanne?” she asked, referring to the couple from hour thirteen. He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around her waist. 

“I’ll never drop you,” he promised, and she frowned, skeptical. “Lucy, it’s okay. This is why I’m here, right? To help you stay standing?” Lucy shrugged. 

“I’m not all that tired anymore,” she realized, and he twirled her for good measure, grinning at the peals of laughter she emitted at the simple gesture. 

Hours fifteen and sixteen, three more couples were eliminated, and the airhorn for the third ten-minute break didn’t startle anyone. Lucy ran to the restroom while Wyatt got in line for another sandwich and salad. The line was only sixteen people deep, since the rest of the contestants had either gone home or taken to sitting on the benches on the sidelines to watch the remaining couples, and could therefore grab food anytime they wanted. Lucy and Wyatt met back at their bench from earlier, and Wyatt quickly handed Lucy her salad and set his sandwich down before running to the restroom himself. 

The break ended quickly, but both Lucy and Wyatt had enough time to choke down their food and get back on the dance floor by the time the countdown ended and the clock replaced the timer. They had been dancing for nearly seventeen hours straight. They were so close. 

It was hour eighteen that really threw Wyatt for a loop. 

“Oh, no,” Lucy whispered. She had one eye trained on the clock, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and before Wyatt could ask her what was wrong she looked up at him. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. He frowned at her, about to ask her what she was sorry for, when a new sound erupted from the bandstand. 

“Alright folks, those of you who have been here before know what time it is,” the frontman crowed through the microphone. “Let’s see how long it takes the newbies to figure it out.” Lucy grabbed Wyatt’s hand and started running after Pierre and Genevieve who had started sprinting along the outskirts of the dance floor. 

“Lucy,” Wyatt gasped, running alongside her, his hand still clasped tightly in hers. “What are we doing?” 

“You ever been to a baseball game?” she called out over the sound of running feet as the rest of the contestants caught wind as to what was going on. “The seventh inning stretch? This is kind of like that. At hour eighteen, we all have to do three laps around the dance floor. 

“ _What_?” Wyatt cried out, trying to keep up with the French couple ahead of them. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

“I’d honestly forgotten until I saw that it was almost hour eighteen,” she replied, an apologetic frown etched into her face as she glanced back at him. “We’re almost done, though! I think we just have one more lap.” 

“How do they know how many laps we’ve done, though?” he asked, and Lucy slowed down as she tried to remember. Before she could reply, the sound came from the bandstand again and everyone stopped, breathing heavily. 

“Oh, they don’t,” Lucy whispered as the frontman approached the microphone again. "I guess Amy and I only usually make it three laps before the buzzer sounds."

“Please take five minutes to get a drink of water before you return to your spots,” he urged, and the band sat down as the contestants hurried off to grab water. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Wyatt asked as he helped Lucy to their bench. Lucy shook her head, smiling up at him. “How are your feet?” Lucy winced as she eased her shoes off her feet, stretching her painted toes. 

“Achey,” she whimpered, chuckling softly. Wyatt sat down beside her and lifted her feet into his lap. “You hate feet,” she reminded him, remembering something he’d admitted offhandedly during one of their missions earlier on in their friendship. He shrugged, gently massaging. 

“I’m getting over it,” he muttered, smirking at her. “So, how did you and Amy do this?” he asked, gesturing to the ballroom. 

“We would swap out,” Lucy replied, her head thrown back as she tried not to moan obscenely at how good her feet felt as Wyatt rubbed them. “I would hold Amy up as she slept and she would hold me up when I slept. We became masters at memorizing the judges’ patterns, so no one ever knew when we were sleeping.” 

Wyatt nodded, and she pulled her feet away and put her shoes back on. “That time again?” he asked as he noticed the other couples making their way back to the dance floor. Lucy nodded, accepting his offered hand as she pulled herself up off the bench. 

Hour nineteen wasn’t awful. With newfound energy, Lucy and Wyatt danced to the upbeat music the band was playing, spinning and dipping as they covered the dance floor. Three more couples were eliminated, one because of their intense make out session that breached the perimeter. Technically, they’d left the dance floor, but they didn’t look too upset when the student tapped them on the shoulder and informed them of their disqualification. 

Hours twenty and twenty-one passed with nothing new. The final ten-minute break was announced and Lucy and Wyatt immediately sat on their bench, mentally preparing themselves for the final three hours. 

“We can totally do this,” Wyatt encouraged as he rubbed Lucy’s feet again. She nodded, biting her lip. “There’s only twelve other couples. We’ve got this in the bag.” 

“Knock on wood,” Lucy blurted out, quickly knocking on the bench they were sitting on. At the end of the break, only ten couples returned to the dance floor in time. Five more were eliminated over the course of the hour, and two left of their own accord. 

“We didn’t think we’d make it this long,” one woman confided in Lucy as her husband gathered their things from the sidelines. “We told the nanny we’d be home by nine.” Lucy and Wyatt bade the couple goodbye. 

Hour twenty-two. There were only Lucy and Wyatt, a couple that was only swaying enough to stay in the running, and Pierre and Genevieve. Pierre and Genevieve hadn’t broken a sweat, while Lucy and Wyatt struggled to stay upright. 

“Come on, Luce,” Wyatt urged as he kept her propped up against his chest. She yawned, snuggling deeper into his hold. “There you go, take a nap. It’s almost over.” He nodded toward the swaying couple. “They’ll go down any minute, and then it’ll just be you, me, and Pi-“

But, Wyatt didn’t finish his thought, for at that precise moment, he stepped backward to steady Lucy in his arms, and his foot caught Pierre mid-spin. Pierre’s elbow collided with Wyatt’s face, startling Lucy awake as he was knocked to the ground. Pierre paused to assess the damage as Lucy stumbled forward, catching Genevieve’s dress, causing both women to topple to the ground as well. 

“And, we have a winner!” The frontman cheered as confetti rained down from the ceiling onto the couple that was barely awake, as Lucy quickly helped Wyatt up and Pierre reluctantly helped Genevieve off of the dance floor. They cleared the floor as the winning couple was approached by the frontman of the band and presented the massive trophy. 

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked Wyatt once they got to their bench. “Move your hand, let me see.” Wyatt slowly pulled his hand away from his eye to reveal a blackish bruise right underneath his left eye. He winced as she gently prodded the swollen area. “We should get you some ice. I don’t want your whole eye to swell shut.” Lucy helped Wyatt up and they made their way to the car. 

“Sorry we didn’t win,” Wyatt grumbled as Lucy drove back to her place to get Wyatt fixed up. She shrugged. “No, don’t play it off. It’s my fault we didn’t win. I told you I wouldn’t drop you.” 

“You didn’t drop me,” she insisted. “The reason you’ve got a black eye right now is _because_ you didn’t drop me. You were trying to catch me.” She smiled over at him. “I’m sorry about your eye.” 

“It’s really Pierre’s fault,” Wyatt scoffed, covering his eye again. Lucy giggled, nodding. 

* * *

“Wait,” Jiya squealed through her laughter, leaning backward into Rufus now. “You mean, you got that horrible black eye from a French ballet dancer named Pierre?” she clarified. Wyatt sighed, nodding, and Jiya threw her head back against Rufus’ shoulder, laughing hysterically. “That is the best injury you’ve ever gotten, Wyatt.” 

“I guess it wasn’t really because Wyatt can’t dance,” Lucy amended her earlier statement as Jiya laughed, and Wyatt smiled softly at her as she leaned into him. “It was more because Pierre’s an asshole.” Wyatt nodded emphatically as Lucy chuckled. 

“Well, that was an excellent story,” Rufus agreed, helping Jiya sit up, “but we’re all out of popcorn, and I should get Jiya home.” Lucy and Wyatt waved as Rufus helped his girlfriend up, who was still laughing, and they left Mason Industries together. 

“So, you admit that I can dance,” Wyatt urged, nudging Lucy. She nodded, yawning softly and resting her head on his shoulder. “Have you slept at all since you got home from the dance?” he asked as she snuggled up to him. She shook her head, yawning again, and he gently lifted her legs into his lap, holding her close as she rested her head against his chest. “Get some sleep, Luce.”

“I don’t think I ever thanked you,” she whispered, her arms slipping from where they’d encircled his neck. “For being my dance partner.” 

“Don’t mention it, ma’am,” he replied gently, but she rested her hands on his cheeks and pulled him closer. Her lips brushed his, soft and slow, but deliberate. The kiss was brief, but Wyatt was breathless afterward. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, smiling sleepily up at him. He chuckled softly as he gently kissed Lucy’s forehead, laying her back against his shoulder. 

“Get some sleep, Luce,” he murmured into her hair as she quickly fell asleep against his chest. 

Agent Christopher found them slumped into each other the next morning, both sleeping soundly. With a knowing smile, she turned off the lights in the wardrobe dock and dutifully informed the staff not to disturb them. They needed their rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the Stanford Dance Marathon is a real thing, but no, it's not like Dancing with the Stars like this is. This is loosely based off of the actual marathon and more based on the Gilmore Girls episode with the Stars Hollow Dance-A-Thon. The actual Stanford Dance Marathon resembles something more like a 24-hour high school homecoming, and I've already lived that horror once; I couldn't see Lucy and Amy participating in something so crass. I decided to refine it a bit, hence the actual ballerinas and the ballroom dancing. 
> 
> Also, I am by no means a dancer, so if I got any terminology incorrect, I apologize. I did as much research as I could.


End file.
